Leaving Thoughts to Our Pillowcases
by DearSweetPapercut
Summary: "He had once commented that he wouldn't have been surprised had he woken to find her side of the bed empty and the going rate for a hooker left on the night stand."


I've been writing a paper on European Diplomacy in the 19th Century all day, I felt as if my head was going to explode so taking a break from the joys of militaristic alliances and political focuses to write some Sandle fun.

This is- Inspired by the song "At A Guess, I'm Second Best" by All Forgotten. (Lines in bold are lyrics from the song)

Hope you all like it, please review. Let me know if you want more- or if you want me to stop with the countless number of Sandle one-shots!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my fried brain cells.

**Leaving Thoughts to Our Pillowcases **

An almost empty bottle of red wine stood with indignity on the night stand alongside two wine glasses that held the residue of its content. The red numbers of the digital clock glowered casting a glow in the corner of the room where his eyes seemed to settle. She lay beside him lost to sleep. Dull moonlight flooded through the windows lighting the whole room in a depressive grey. The air in the room lingered weighted down but the smell of sex.

He stared at the ceiling wondering what her husband had done this time to result in her seeking solace in-between his sheets. He noticed that he only stood a chance when her other lover had fallen shy from the mark. A pattern had developed for their encounters, whenever she fought with her spouse, she would find herself loving him for the night.

He had memorised the sound of her car's engine coming a halt, her foot steps as she neared hiss front door and the way she knocked. It had happened so many times in the recent months that he had learnt to always keep his place tidy. Not that she would have noticed, only ever wanting one thing from him during her visits.

It was wrong. He knew it was. He knew that she knew what they were doing was wrong.

**Never had something so wrong felt more right. **

The lust that he had festered had run into love, as relentlessly as waves onto the shore. It was _not_ sex he wanted.

It was _her_.

He wanted to make her breakfast-in-bed on the days she felt down and bring her flowers when it was raining outside. He wanted to be the one she came home to. The one she said goodnight to. The one she woke up with.

When he rolled over he could see her eyelids fluttered as she dreamt. It was in those moments that he would admire her beauty, the soft look of her lips, the elegant line of neck, and the dark curls of her hair that rested in a tangled mess on his pillow case. And as he watched her, he could only think one thing:

**Thank God you're happy I'll let the envy kill me. **

As much as he wanted to love her, to _really_ love her, without anything in the way he realised that he couldn't do that to her. She had been waiting for her husband for far too long for him to be able to take that away from her.

There was also the issue that she didn't love him.

That was a fact- one that he had bitterly accepted.

**I'm far from the four letters you hear when he whispered in your ear. **

He was far from anything she had in her relationship with her husband. It was the longer they had been maintaining their affair that he realised just how bitter-sweet the time they spent together was. They would barely talk, as if pretending to be anything other than friends. He had once commented that he wouldn't have been surprised had he woken to find her side of the bed empty and the going rate for a hooker left on the night stand. She had laughed him off pushing him on the bed and climbing on top of him choosing to ignore what he had implied. But she would always stay the night with her husband miles away there was no need for her to cover her tracks. He was the only other person that knew where she had been.

Often he would find himself wondering what it was that he provided her with. He found himself speculating on many occasions about what it was that she thought of when he was inside of her. His ex girlfriend had taught him all about comfort sex and he wondered if that was what this had been for the woman lying next to him; an attempt to heal.

Or perhaps she was attempting to spite the man that seemed to always push her away?

**If I had you, I'd take you from the pain his distance puts you through.**

He thought to himself as he gently moved a strand of hair away from her face. Her eyes fluttered open clouded with dreams; she gave him a warm smiled shuffling slowly to be closer to him. He always found himself surprised about how close they were yet how truly far apart.

She tilted her head up and planted a kiss on his lips, her hand running down his torso towards the waist band of his boxers. He gasped at her touch as she smiled devilishly at him the spark in her dark eyes setting alight from the knowledge that she had him wrapped around her little finger.

He wondered if she ever thought about him outside of the confides of his bedroom; when she was alone in the big empty house she claimed to share with her husband.

**I bet you tiptoe around because you keep hearing the sound of your lips touching mine**

"Stop." He demanded climbing out of bed and standing watching her with a pained expression. She gave a throaty laugh kneeling in front of him, and began moving her hands towards his body only for them to be batted away. He switched on the closet lamp to him so that she could see the seriousness of the expression he was wearing.

"I can't do this anymore." He spoke slowly, letting the words gradually form in his mind. She glanced up at him with confusion. "I don't want to just be _that guy_, not anymore."

"What do you want me to do?" She asked meekly. The prowess that had been touching him less than a few moments ago had changed into a demure and nervous woman. All of a sudden she found herself feeling extremely exposed, she pulled his bed sheets around herself. It felt slightly ridiculous considering that only earlier that night he had seen her completely naked.

"Be honest with me, for once. If this is just about sex, well then, you can count me out." he raised his hands as if confessing to a crime. She watched him for a moment longer before a tear slid down her cheek but she remained silent- the lack of words were enough of an answer. But he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"**If I had you, I'd do a million things that he could never do."**

She glanced down at the wedding ring on her hand and then back up at the man that stood in front of her. A part of her knew what he was saying was true. He simply nodded taking her stillness as her response, the pained expression on his face becoming even more so.

"**At a guess; I'm second best." **

He gave a bitter humourless laugh and slowly folded his hands in front of himself not knowing what else to do. She pulled herself up so they were eye to eye and gently placed her hand on his cheek. Had all memories of their previous late night encounters disappeared from his mind, he would have thought that she was indicating that she felt something real for him. But he agonizingly convinced himself that was not the case.

"**If only you knew the way I dreamed about you."**

He whispered to her as their eyes met. She gave a nod planting a gentle kiss on his lips. It was as if the air between them had disappeared as they shared those stolen seconds. He could hear the sound her heart beat slowly increasing.

"**Have you ever felt more right doing something so wrong?" **

She whispered into his ear. A shiver ran through his body as their holds tightened on each other.

That was all it took.

**The End **


End file.
